Beacon
by danceswpenguins9
Summary: OC. Younger Winchesters. Jess Jones is your average teenage girl, until the day of her 18th birthday. Then she finds out she is a beacon for the supernatural. She attracts everything that goes bump in the night, along with a few hunters...
1. In the Light

**Beacon**

Chapter One: In the Light

It was times like this that made me grateful I was soon leaving home to go away to school. My little brother Max was celebrating my eighteenth birthday in his own unique way. Unfortunately that meant he had stuck my pads, yes special girl pads, all over his clothing and inserted two tampons up his nose.

I wish I were joking but apparently my brother is a freak who needs help. Despite my repeated attempts to convince my parents of such, however, they maintain he is merely energetic and lively. Right. So instead of getting to sleep in on my birthday, which also marked the beginning of my summer break, I was awoken by a walking Kotex promotional.

Max burst in my room, jumped on the bed a few times and then squealed a happy birthday just in case I hadn't taken notice of him. And my parents wondered why a few minutes later I chased him around the house and outside until he fled up into the safety of his tree house. He didn't come down until hours later when guests were arriving for my dreaded birthday party. Fortunately by then he had removed the tampons in favor of breathing through his nose.

It's not that I don't like my birthday, I just prefer not to be the center of attention. Especially when that attention is from my extended family, from whom my brother inherited his freakishness. Unfortunately I was currently being forced to entertain them all. My maternal grandmother sat across from me, my great aunt from my dad's side on my right, and my older cousin on my left. They had me surrounded.

"Dear, there is something different about your aura," Grandma observed mystically, focusing all around my head instead of actually looking at me. She fancies herself a psychic.

"Really? Has it developed polka dots?" I inquired politely. My cousin snorted back laughter.

"No, no it is so much brighter…" Grandma insisted, squinting her eyes as though looking at the sun. "My dear Jezebel you have changed."

I winced. "Please, Grams, just call me Jess like everyone else. And yeah I have changed, I am an adult now, yadda ya…" I waved a hand dismissively. "I can buy porn and cigarettes, big deal."

Suddenly my Grandma grabbed my hand, focusing very serious eyes on me. "You are as bright as a beacon!" she exclaimed.

Slightly disturbed, I raised my eyebrows. "Um…Okay, I am just going to go…Go." I slipped my hand away from her grip and stood. My great aunt suddenly glanced up.

"Would you know if your mother has any pickles, Jess?" she asked curiously.

I sighed. "I suppose she does, why?"

"I have a terrible headache," she explained, standing up and disappearing into the kitchen. I didn't bother trying to figure out what the relationship between pickles and headaches was. But I will admit I later found several pickles lying abandoned in the kitchen sink and the jar drained of juice.

I darted towards the back door of my house, intent on making an escape. I have rotten luck, however, and my mother caught me.

"Not so fast," she called, and I turned back to see her grinning. I reluctantly dropped my hand from the doorknob. "We are having dinner in a few minutes and then you have to blow out the candles. How do you like your cake?"

I lowered my eyes to the cake she held. It was in the shape of a bunny with bright pink frosting and gummy eyes and nose. I gave my mother a skeptical look. "You do realize that this is my eighteenth, not my eighth birthday?" I asked.

My mom gave me the look, which includes narrowing her eyes, tilting her head, and practically exuding disdain for my attitude. "Your brother wanted it to be shaped like a rabbit."

I nodded. Then I politely sat at dinner while everyone ate, and when the time came for my cake to be served I lit the candles myself. Everyone sang happy birthday, my cousin chorusing in an odd baritone voice to offset my brother's armpit farts. Then I pursed my lips, about to blow out the candles, when my dad stopped me.

"Wait! Did you make a wish?" he asked, smiling.

I shook my head before staring down at the monstrous pink bunny, mind searching. _I wish an asteroid would land on my head this very moment. _Grinning to myself, I once again took a deep breath to blow out the candles. Only to pause as Max jumped from his chair, leaning over the table to blow them out for me.

I stared. Everyone else laughed, commenting on how helpful he was. "About as helpful as a rat infested with bubonic plague…" I muttered lowly. I got the first piece, at least, and I made sure to stab the rabbit through the eye with my fork.

Mercifully, a few hours later it was getting dark and I really was able to sneak away. Everyone else had spilled out from the house to the back porch and yard. I walked right out the front door and started down the street, stopping to glance back past my house. Someone had lit a fire in the bonfire pit, and it lit up all the guests. I could see the smaller kids running around with water balloons.

Then I kept walking. I had made it a personal tradition to go to the nearby park every birthday. I don't know why, I just like being able to swing and think by myself. It was deserted, because even though it was a nice night it was getting late and not many people used this park. I wandered over to the swingset, pushing off.

I soared as high into the air as I could for a while, until I finally stopped pumping my legs and let myself glide to a stop. The ribbon I used to tie up my hair had evidently come loose, because I felt my hair slip out and fall around my neck. I reached back a hand to find the ribbon but felt nothing but curly tendrils of hair.

I looked to the side and spotted my ribbon blowing along in the breeze and jumped up. I dropped my eyes only for a second to slip my sandals on, but when I next looked up there was a man holding my ribbon. I felt my eyes widen in surprise, because I hadn't seen him walking up and he had certainly been nowhere near me a few seconds ago.

He was tall and young, with messy golden brown hair and a face I could only describe as beautiful. The guy was prettier than me, with strong lines along his cheek bones and jaw, a straight nose and perfectly curved lips. He wore jeans and a black v-neck shirt, the sleeves of which were pushed up to his elbows. I stared at him uncertainly, taken aback for some reason. He glanced down at the lacy ribbon, before looking back up at me. A small, amused grin appeared.

"Would this be yours?" he asked, taking a few steps forward and offering it to me. He spoke oddly, with no identifiable accents. He didn't sound American to me, but he didn't sound like he came from any other recognizable place either.

I raised my eyebrows. "You see any other girls around here?" I asked, reaching out to take the ribbon. My fingers accidentally brushed his, and I noticed how cold they were despite the warm weather.

I automatically took a step back when a wider smile lit up his face, his hazel eyes sweeping over me before settling once more on my own. "I suppose not, Jezebal Jones."

I followed that step with several more to put some distance between us, my mouth dropping open. "How do you-Do I…I don't know you," I said finally, and it came out accusatory.

"No, you do not," he admitted. "My apologies. I prefer to be called Kaden. Now you know me." He seemed to find this even funnier, moving forward to match my pace backward.

"What do you want, creep?" I snapped. His gaze turned serious.

"No need to be rude. I was simply in the area when I recognized the feel of a new mediator," he said, shrugging. "And I notice you are young. Might I be one of the first you have met?"

"First what?" I asked, completely lost. Mentally I found it reassuring to think that the guy was probably far too hot to be a rapist. I mean why would he be lurking in parks when he could probably snap his fingers and get some?

His eyes widened slightly, and a slow smile spread over his face. "Wait. You do not know yet?"

"I know you're crazy, what else is there to know?" I asked impatiently. I probably should have ran about five minutes ago but my curiosity was too much.

"Yourself. You do not know yourself," he explained, shaking his head slowly. I found that ever present smirk was starting to annoy me. "You are a mediator to my kind," he said finally, slowly as if speaking to a child. And a dumb one at that.

"A huh? And who exactly are your kind, the Sexual Perverts of America club?" I persisted. He moved and was suddenly several feet closer. I stumbled backward, blinking my eyes rapidly because surely he hadn't just moved that fast.

"No. My kind are the supernatural. And you are the liaison between my world and yours," he said, moving so quickly again that I didn't see him until he was right in front of me. He was so close I could see the light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose despite the dark.

"I am not sure how you're doing that, with the moving all fast so I can't see, but you are crazy-" I started rambling and he laughed slightly, nodding.

"Yes, yes I am just crazy. But take this as a warning," he said carefully, his smirk finally falling. He leaned down, and I stared at his eyes, which I had believed to be hazel before. They now looked more like cat eyes in the dark, catching and reflecting any light. "I may be the first but I will not be the last. More will seek you out. Be prepared."

With that morbid warning, he reached out a hand, and I had the notion that he was moving deliberately slow. I had no idea why the hell I was even still around this guy who had clearly just escaped from a mental institute. But it was almost like he cast a spell over me, held me in place. His hand just barely brushed my face, making me shiver at the brush of cold. "You are much prettier than the last mediator I knew," he whispered mischievously.

And then he was gone. Like I blinked my eyes and he just wasn't there. On the walk home, every step I took I came closer to believing I had imagined the entire thing. By the time I slipped under the sheets on my bed I had convinced myself the sexy guy from the park was merely a figment of my over active imagination.

* * *

Oh, if only I were that lucky. The next morning my alarm started blaring at an annoying eight o'clock. My parents were working so it was my responsibility to take Max to his day camp and run errands.

I showered and got ready, then grabbed some bills and a grocery list. I ushered Max into the backseat of my Chevy cavalier, doing my best to ignore him kicking the back of my seat on the drive to the park where his camp was held.

I made sure he had his sun block and swim trunks in his backpack, then let him squirm away from me. He took off running across the grass up to a wooden pavilion where other little terrors were gathered. Then I backed out of the parking lot, stopped at the bank and headed towards the grocery.

I pushed my cart along down the aisles, and one wheel kept getting stuck. I sighed and tipped a box of cereal down off the shelf into the cart. I kept going, turning down another aisle and catching sight in the mirror above me of a girl following me.

Suspicious, I turned to look at her. She'd been trailing along behind me throughout the store. She was staring right at me but embarrassed, she lowered her gaze, hiding behind shaggy brown hair. I raised a brow but kept going to the canned foods section.

Later I checked out, wheeling my cart full of plastic bags out to my car. Behind me the brunette girl left the store too, having bought nothing. By the time I unloaded the bags into the trunk of my car and the girl was hovering about ten steps away, I was irritated. I shut the trunk, whirling around and fixing her with a glare.

"Is there a reason you're creeping up on me?" I snapped, walking over. She took a step back hesitantly, frowning.

"I…I need to talk to you," she stammered. "You're a mediator, right?"

I stared. She looked like she was my age, and had a relatively average appearance. She didn't really remind me of the Kaden guy I had met the night before, who could almost pull off the whole supernatural thing. But there was that word again, mediator. I gulped. "What are you talking about?"

The girl bit a lip. "I need your help, I thought you were supposed to help us…"

I glanced around. An older woman was nearby and watching curiously. I looked back towards the grocery store and spotted an alley between it and the drugstore next door. "Come on," I told the girl, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her to the privacy of the alley. She didn't protest, just followed along.

When we were sufficiently hidden I turned on her. "Okay? What is up with this mediator business? How did you find me?"

The girl peeked out from beneath her bangs. "I don't know how it works! I just felt drawn to you somehow. I'm come all the way from Seattle…"

I raised an eyebrow. Seattle is at least an hour drive. "Okay, so you came all this way because you felt like I was here? That makes no sense."

The girl shrugged, losing her patience. "I can't explain it. I thought you were supposed to know."

"How would I know? Yesterday was my birthday and now suddenly I have people walking up to me telling me I am a…A mediator for the supernatural?" I said, realizing it sounded more than half crazy. "This is bull, I never asked for this!"

That seemed to really aggravate the girl. "Yeah? Well at least you still get to be human! None of us ask to be dragged into the supernatural!"

I shook my head, looking away for a minute to think. All of this had to be some sort of prank, right? No way these people really were part of an underground world. "Fine," I said suddenly, looking back at the brunette. "If you want me to believe you are really supernatural and I am really this mediator thing that is supposed to help you, prove it."

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Fine," she snapped back. And then she changed. From my point of view it was kind of like one of those nightmares you can't seem to wake yourself up from.

The girl's bones snapped and cracked, shifting outward. Her nose and jaw buckled out, bulging from her face to form a snout. Her shoulders and upper half fell forward, onto the ground at the same time her leg joints reversed direction and snapped backward. And then, to add to the gruesome change, thick brown fur erupted everywhere.

Two large pointed ears rose up from the fur to complete the look. And suddenly I was face to face with a huge demented wolf. It almost looked like your average wolf except much larger and possibly exposed to nuclear fallout.

The wolf just looked at me, as if expecting something. My mouth opened but I had no clue what to say. Finally, I just stuttered, "Uh…You know, we could get you a wax kit for that fur problem."

A low, guttural growl issued from the beast not two feet in front of me. I winced. "Um, okay I believe you. Kay? So why don't you uh…Change back and we can talk."

The wild transformation moved into reverse this time and I watched in amazement, unable to look away as a girl quickly reformed from the monster. I noticed her now human eyes were red and filled to the brim with tears.

I looked down in guilt. "Um, why don't we go get some lunch and talk?" I asked, before thinking it over and realizing I wasn't sure she even ate human food.

The girl nodded, however. "Can we get Burger King? I want a chocolate milkshake."

"Sure thing," I agreed, leading her to my car. As we got in and I stuck the key into the ignition, I couldn't help but feel dazed. Finally I managed to formulate a question on the drive to the fast food joint. "So what are you, like a werewolf?"

The girl, who had been staring out the window, glanced over. She immediately looked offended. "Hardly. They only change at the full moon. I'm a shape shifter."

I tapped my fingers onto the steering wheel as I waited to turn into the restaurant. "Of course you are," I muttered.

Ten minutes later we were parked in the lot beneath a tree, sipping at milkshakes and munching on fries. I had insisted we eat in the car since our conversation was far from something we'd want overheard. "Right, so you hit puberty and suddenly you wolf out?" I asked the girl, whose name turned out to be Stephanie.

She nodded. "Something like that…"

"And you said since I'm a-a mediator or whatever, I'm supposed to help you?" I persisted. "But with what? Seems you got it all figured out…"

Stephanie blushed suddenly, fidgeting in her seat. "Well see, there is this boy…"

I groaned, pointing at her with a French fry. "You came all the way to see me just for love advice?" I said in disbelief.

Stephanie glared back at me. "It is not just love advice! How exactly do I explain to him that I'm…I'm not entirely human?"

I furrowed my brow, considering that. _Apparently I have just become the Dr. Phil for freaks._ Finally I sighed. "I don't know really. I don't exactly have a lot of experience myself with boys. Is there any way you could just hide it?" I wondered.

Stephanie bit her lip, eyes growing sad. "I was worried you would say that. I just want someone to know who I am and accept me…"

I stared out my side window, which was rolled down so the breeze could keep us cool. Across the parking lot there was an old black car parked, with two people in it. The guy in the passenger's seat was looking over at me, but he quickly looked away when I caught his glance.

Grinning, I finally answered Stephanie. "That isn't something only you want, ya know. Everyone on the planet wants to find someone they can be real with that will accept them. Everyone has things they worry about, secrets they wish they could share…You just have a really big, furry secret."

Slowly, she grinned at that. "That makes me feel a little better…"

"Good," I replied, once more looking back at the old fashioned car. And once more I caught the boy in the passenger seat staring. He looked to be about seventeen, just a little younger than me. He had shaggy brown hair. I noticed then that whoever was in the driver's seat was also staring over, though it was harder to see him. He looked like he was older though, definitely an adult.

Just then another guy appeared, this one probably a few years older than me. He carried three huge bags of fast food over to the car, shoving them in the open window. Then he cranked open the door to the backseat and lazily shoved himself into the car.

I am something of a people watcher, so I found myself staring over, intrigued. The youngest of them handed out food, but they were all talking. Suddenly, the guy that had climbed in the back glanced over.

When he saw me staring, he smirked, cocking an eyebrow up. He was pretty cute, and didn't look away until a dull rumble filled the air. The driver, whom I assumed to be the father, had started the car. He backed out of the parking spot before pulling around the building.

"Weird," I commented finally. Beside me I heard slurping as Stephanie finished off her shake.

"What? Those guys?" She asked. "They were cute."

"There was something weird about them," I pointed out, glancing over at her. She shrugged.

"Whatever you say. You're the mediator," she replied.


	2. In the Evening

**Beacon**

Chapter Two: In the Evening

That night I dropped Stephanie back off at the bus station, after making plans to see her the next weekend. I offered to drive to her, since she didn't have a car. Then I drove home, parked the car, and sat in my driveway thinking.

I had never before had hallucinations or breaks from reality. No, I was firmly convinced that what I saw had been real. However, that was the frightening part. If people like Stephanie were real, what else could be out there? And was it more dangerous than the shy brunette teenager I had just met?

I thought of Kaden and his cat-like eyes, how fast he could move…With a shiver, I jerked open the door to my car and went inside my house. My mom was home and making macaroni and cheese in the kitchen. It was one of Max's main food groups, because he was the pickiest eater in the western hemisphere.

Max was sitting at the kitchen table slopping green aloe gel all over his skin, which was an angry red shade. I groaned. "Max, I told you to wear your sunscreen!" I lectured him. He stuck his tongue out at me.

"Jess? You're home late," my mother observed from the kitchen, turning to point at me with her cheese covered spoon. "Call next time you're going to be out after dark."

I stared, in slight disbelief at my mother. "Really, mom? I'm eighteen now, I shouldn't have to get permission to be out at night." I saw her purse her lips and instinctively knew which argument was coming, so I beat her to the punch. "_However_, since this is your house and all that, I will call and tell you as a polite show of respect," I added sarcastically.

"Good," she retorted smartly, turning the heat off on the stove. "What do you want for dinner?"

I couldn't stand to choke down one more bowl of macaroni, so I went over to the fridge and opened it. I spotted leftover pizza and answered, "I'll just heat this up. Isn't Dad going to be home for dinner?"

She acted like she hadn't heard me, and I let it go. I took my microwaved pepperoni pizza up to my room then, sitting down on my bed and turning my laptop on. I changed clothes while it booted up, putting on something more comfortable. When my computer finally started I sat down, pulling up internet explorer, which automatically went to my Google homepage.

Taking a bite of food, I typed with one finger "mediator." The websites that turned up in my search were hardly helpful. There were professional business mediators, or peer mediators to settle disputes between average people. Nothing that mentioned anything out of the ordinary. I went back to the search bar, adding "supernatural" before it and hitting the Enter key.

I frowned as I scrolled through the results. There was a book called _The Mediator _about a girl that talked to ghosts. It was listed under teen fiction. There was also some cult of the Virgin Mary but I figured it was best to avoid that website.

Finally one result looked promising, its summary included how the mediator needed to be fair and balanced. I clicked it, only to wind up on a government policy website. Sighing in disappointment, I closed out of the window and shut my computer. I finished eating my pathetic excuse for dinner and walked over to my bedroom window, opening it because my room had grown stuffy from having the door shut.

I unlocked the window, pulling it back to let the cool air in. Squinting my eyes, I realized there was a car parked across the street. It was hard to see in the dark, but it looked large and black. My mouth fell open slightly as I realized it was the car that I had seen in the parking lot at Burger King earlier. The car with two teenage boys and some older guy in it that had given me the creeps.

I stood there like a complete idiot, staring suspiciously out at the vehicle until I heard a low rumbling as the car started, its headlights flashing on to illuminate the pavement and tree lined street. As it pulled away from the curb and left, I still couldn't make out what the people inside looked like.

After the car left I still watched out my window, now paranoid and unable to shake that feeling that there was something left to be seen. Almost immediately another shape emerged from the night, this one in the form of a person staring up at my house. Scared and aggravated, I ran over to my bedroom door.

I almost left my room before looking thoughtfully at my hockey stick and grabbing that. Then I pounded down the stairs into the first floor. My mom was in her office, I could hear her practically screaming at someone on the phone. Most likely some poor employee or coworker.

Max was in the back family room, watching some cartoon. It flashed so much it lit up the otherwise dark room like strobe lights. Thankfully my little brother wasn't epileptic or else he would've had a million seizures by now. I strode to the front of my house, doing my best to be angry instead of just scared.

I stopped by the front door, and with a rush of courage I opened it and flashed on the porch light. The guy had moved by this time and was standing in my front yard.

It was Kaden. I narrowed my eyes, shutting the front door quietly so as not to attract my family's attention. Then I stomped down the stairs, stopping a few feet away from him to glare moodily. He was smiling in that annoying, self assured, cocky way. And it was doing nothing for my attitude.

"What are you doing? Are you stalking me?" I demanded indignantly.

"I would hardly say that stopping by for a visit makes me a stalker, Jezebel," he said lightly, gesturing at my hockey stick. "What are you going to do with that, hit me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as though daring me.

"If worse comes to worse, yes," I retorted. "And standing across the street from my house in the middle of the night staring up at my bedroom is not visiting. It's stalking, by any normal person's standards." He laughed a little, so I added in a smart tone, "Freak."

Looking vaguely offended, Kaden rolled his eyes. They caught the moonlight, flashing eerily. "I may be a freak, but I am not the one threatening people with a wooden stick," was his comeback.

I opened my mouth to make another smart remark before closing it and rethinking that decision. He had been the first to use the word mediator around me, and at the time I had dismissed it. Now maybe I could get some more information. Hesitantly, I asked, "Bickering aside, can I ask a question?"

"If you put that down," he quipped, nodding his head at the stick.

I looked down at it before teasing, "What, does it make you nervous? Would a stake through the heart kill you?"

Kaden laughed in disbelief. His laughter was melodic, almost musical, which was entrancing, to say the least. "Yes. But I suppose a stake in the heart would kill most people, Jezebel."

I groaned at the use of my full name again, dropping the stick. "Can't you just call me Jess? I hate the name Jezebel," I complained.

"Why? I quite like its origin. It is derived from a Hebrew word meaning impure and wicked," he explained. When I failed to show any interest he continued, "Jezebel was the name of a Phoenician princess who married King Ahab of Northern Israel and led his people into sexual immorality. Later she was thrown out of a window and eaten by dogs in the street."

I looked at him, unimpressed and slightly disgusted. "Thanks for the history lesson," I said. "But I still don't like the name. Or the imagery of me getting eaten by dogs, but really, thank you for that."

Kaden laughed again, his unusual sense of humor sparked, before shaking his head. "Very well, Jess. What's your question?"

"You said I'm a mediator. That I'm a liaison between the supernatural and people. Right?" I asked, and after he nodded continued. "Well…what does all that mean? And why did it just now happen? How does it work? And-"

He held up a hand, interrupting me. "Please, one question at a time. It means you have been marked to us, and we seek you out for help. I am not sure why it just now happened, the last mediator I knew was much older…Unpleasant fellow…" he trailed off in thought before making a face.

"Fine, but why me?" I whined. "I'm not so good at advice for humans…let alone advice for wolf girls, and whatever you are."

Kaden took a few steps forward, his face turning serious. "I am not sure how one is chosen. And what do you mean, wolf girl?"

"Stephanie," I explained vaguely. His expression showed that wasn't a sufficient answer so I rambled on. "Just this girl, she can like…shape shift or something…into a wolf? I don't know, I met her earlier today!"

His reflective eyes widened and he swore softly under his breath. "No wonder they were tracking you! She must have led them right to you…"

"Huh?" I asked stupidly, confused.

Kaden turned to glare accusingly at the blank stretch of road the car had been parked on. "The hunters! You saw them, didn't you?"

Alarmed, I gulped. "H-hunters? What are they hunting?"

His good mood vanished, and now he scowled. "What don't they hunt is what you should be asking. They are the real monsters. Anything they don't understand, they chop its head off or put a bullet in its heart, or worse…"

That was a consequence of my new predicament I hadn't expected. I worriedly glanced back up the road in the direction they had disappeared. "But they aren't after me, right? I haven't done anything!"

"I do not know what their intentions are. For now they could just be watching, and waiting," Kaden answered.

I bit my lip, distressed. Surely they would realize I wasn't some sort of monster like what they hunted. But what if Kaden was right and they were dangerous? Was my family now in trouble? And then there was the issue of Kaden himself. Why was he here, what did he want?

I glanced back at my house, making sure I did not see movement behind the thin sheer drapes in the front window and that the door was still shut securely. Then I turned back to the man in front of me. "Why were you here tonight, anyway? I saw you right after they left, did you follow them or something?"

"I heard rumors they were in town," he offered.

"That doesn't answer my question," I pointed out.

Kaden sighed. "I wanted to be here in case they chose to act. I figured it was not a coincidence that you start glowing and hunters show up in town."

"I glow?" I repeated, surprised and amused.

He jerked up an eyebrow before his characteristic smile reappeared on his face. "Yes, actually, to me you glow rather brightly. I'm like a moth drawn to flame."

"And what are you, exactly?" I asked. Of course I had already dreamed up my theories, okay more like fantasies, but I wanted a confirmation. Before I could get one, however, Kaden's head jerked as he stared back up the stretch of empty road.

"Your father drives a large truck, correct?" he asked.

"Um, yes," I replied, unsure.

Kaden frowned regretfully. "Then I must be going. Another time, Jezebel," he said hurriedly, turning to go.

The glow of headlights was appearing on the road then, and though I only turned to look for a second, when I turned back Kaden was gone. I picked my hockey stick back up and then moped as my father pulled into the driveway, parking his Silverado in back of my car and swinging the door open.

When he saw me standing in the middle of the lawn, the porch lamp lighting up the baggy sports jersey and boxer shorts I wore and the hockey stick in my hand, he stared. Then, tiredly, he asked, "Jess, you haven't been drinking, have you?"

"No, Dad, I'm legally not old enough to drink," I told him, smirking.

He stared a moment longer before waving a hand wearily at my smart mouth and grabbing his briefcase from the truck. He shuffled up onto the porch and through the door. I sighed. Even behavior that should be considered by most to be unbalanced failed to attract my father's attention.

I looked around to see if Kaden was waiting anywhere, but I was alone outside. And I still remembered what he had said about the hunters. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, and I gripped my hockey stick tighter as I walked up to the front door, making sure to turn the lock and the deadbolt.

When I got back into my bedroom, I pulled my blinds shut and grabbed my cell phone. I found Stephanie in my contacts list and hit send. Her phone rang on and on, until I was worried she wouldn't answer. Finally, a minute before the call probably would have gone to voicemail, she picked up with a "-Hello? Jess?"

"Stephanie, where are you? Are you back home yet?" I asked impatiently.

"No, not yet. Why, is something wrong? You sound weird," she stated.

"Yes, something is wrong! Those guys we saw today in the parking lot, I saw them again. They were parked outside my house!" I said urgently, struggling to control the volume of my voice. Really didn't need my parents overhearing this. "They're hunters, Stephanie!"

Dead silence buzzed into my ear, every second of it growing heavier onto my eardrum until I was convinced they had gotten to her just then, somehow. "Are you there? Answer me, please!"

"I-I'm here, Jess…" she said uncertainly, lowering her voice. "Hunters? You think…You think they're after me?"

"I don't know! Kaden said they probably followed you to me, which means they are already on your trail," I explained.

"Wait-whose Kaden?" she asked, confused.

"Some guy, I'm not sure what he is yet. Doubtful he's human though. I met him last night," I said dismissively. "But that's not the issue here. What if they are dangerous?"

A long pause on the other end, then Stephanie spoke up in a strangely courageous voice. I had expected her to be scared, because I certainly was. "Then I will deal with them. If they've been following me and haven't attacked yet, it's likely they are watching to see if I'm dangerous. I haven't done anything wrong, so hopefully they won't try to hurt me…"

"_Hopefully?" _I repeated doubtfully. "I can't go to sleep knowing they _hopefully _won't hurt you tonight!"

"Look, don't worry about me. I didn't come to you for protection, I can handle myself. Besides, there's my parents…" She whispered over the phone. Clearly she was still on the bus and trying not to be overheard.

"You're parents are shape shifters too?" I asked in awe.

"Yeah, genetic, remember?" Stephanie pointed out.

"Right…" I said, unsure what else to do. "Look, if you want me to come up there-"

"_No,_" she stressed. "Sit tight. I'll be fine, just worry about yourself. You know, see if daddy's got a gun and such. I've got to go, but watch out for this Kaden person too. Who knows what sort of creepy crawly he is."

"Will do," I sighed, resigned.

"And thanks for the warning. Night, Jess," the girl on the other end said tiredly.

"Night," I repeated, then shut my phone with a sharp click. I spent the rest of the night surfing the internet for anything that might be helpful. Not surprisingly, most searches that involved the words supernatural or hunters turned up completely useless crap. After such a disappointing night, all that was left to do was turn off my computer and try to get some sleep.

However, just five minutes after darkness had settled in my room and I had nuzzled comfortably under the sheets, my bed vibrated. At first, it was a harmless little shudder. I ignored it, attributing it to over active imagination after a day of too much sensory stimulation.

It seemed like a fairly good explanation to me, very intelligent sounding. However, the longer I ignored it, the more insistent it grew. Until my bed was shaking violently, me being thrown about on the mattress, face crumpled up more with irritation than fear. I finally jumped up, and immediately the bed grew still. Narrowing my eyes, I turned on the light and checked under the bed.

Once, when I was a lot younger, my cat had burrowed up into the box springs of my bed and scratched up at my mattress. A terrified little version of me had assumed it to be a monster. However, now there was absolutely nothing beneath my bed. No monsters, and no pesky burrowing felines.

I got back into bed after clicking the light off once more, only to have it once more begin vibrating. Aggravated, I started to think about that book I had found mention of online. About the ghost mediator. Of course that was fiction, but perhaps I really would have to deal with ghosts now. Feeling foolish, I randomly asked the air, "Um, could you…could you please wait until tomorrow? I'm tired."

To my surprise, it seemed to work. As I drifted off to sleep in my pleasantly motionless bed, I decided the next day to buy a Ouija board.


	3. You Shook Me

**Beacon**

Chapter Three: You Shook Me

The next day I stood in the front window of Toys'R'us, a thin plastic bag barely covering the board game I had purchased. Through the plastic the front cover of a glow in the dark Ouija board showed through, designed to look spooky but just coming off silly.

I hadn't really known where to go for something like it, but apparently it was more of a toy than a dark object used to open up portals to the spirit world. Despite the description on the back, which promised: 'Evil spirits! Wake the dead! Consult the board of omens! Always mysterious…Always mystifying…and now, glows in the dark!'

Well spank me sideways, I could barely contain my excitement. However, I was more than a little paranoid about the black car that seemed to be stalking me. I stood in the window as countless people pushed past me, peering as far out in the parking lot as I could see. There weren't any creepy people watching me from old fashioned cars.

Taking a deep breath, I finally walked forward and through the automatic door. I half ran to my car, locking the door as soon as I was inside and driving home. Then I repeated the routine, circling around my block to check for the car before finally parking my driveway. Stupid hunters.

I took the Ouija board up to my room, along with a bologna sandwich. Then, sandwich in one hand, I placed a few fingertips on the little marker. After swallowing a bite, I asked the air, "Am I alone?"

I felt like an idiot when there was no response. Outside my window, an ice cream truck drove by, annoying music blaring. Somewhere a dog barked and a baby was crying. And next door I could hear water splashing in the neighbor's pool. Basically, I was surrounded by the sounds of summer and utterly lacking in any supernatural contact.

I took another bite of my lunch, and repeated in a bored tone, "Am I alone here?" To my surprise, I felt the pointer piece beneath my fingertips begin to vibrate. And slowly, it slid across the board. It came to rest with the little circle of plastic directly over the word "No".

I put my sandwich down, now placing the other hand on the piece as well. I tried tugging it backwards, but it stayed firmly in place. "Fine, what is your name?" I asked, unsure where to look so I continued staring down.

"H…A…N..." I announced the letters out loud as they were spelled out. Finally… "Hank? Your name is Hank? Well at least I know I'm not moving it, I would never name a ghost Hank…"

My bologna sandwich went flying through the air and with a splat, the lunchmeat stuck to my bedroom wall. I made a face as it slid slowly down before landing on the carpet. "Rude. I was eating that," I commented. The board beneath my hands shook. "Okay, sorry…"

I frowned, wondering what to ask next. "Uh…So do you have unfinished business or something?" I questioned. Isn't that why ghosts normally hung around? Because of unprofessed love or a hidden will or something? To my relief the marker shuddered and moved, centering itself over the word "Yes."

"Kay… Well, you wanna give me a clue?" I asked uncertainly.

For a moment nothing happened. The marker stayed where it was, my room completely still. Then I noticed the ketchup that was smeared on the wall was moving. As if an imaginary person were drawing in it with their finger, a word was written in the ketchup.

"Kate?" I read, confused. "Whose Kate?"

The windows of my room began to fog up, the temperature inside the room rising until it felt close to boiling. In the mist, the word 'Kate' was spelled repeatedly, over and over. Starting to panic, I jerked my fingers back from the board, only to watch in shock as the marker moved anyway.

Over and over, it cycled through the letters spelling the name Kate. "Okay! Okay, I get it, this has something to do with Kate!" I shrieked.

Suddenly the marker came to a stop. The temperature in my room gradually fell, returning to normal as the fog on my windows cleared. The marker stayed centered over the letter 'E' on the Ouija board. "Uh…Hello Hank? You there?"

I got nothing in response. "Jerk…" I muttered, trying to goad a reply. Still nothing. Sighing, I shoved the board under my bed.

* * *

My mom was working late and my dad was not answering his phone. How typical. That afternoon I would be stuck picking Max up from summer camp. I detached myself from my video game system, regretfully saving my Sims midway through accidentally setting fire to their crappy house.

I got in my car, checking to make sure the hockey stick and baseball bat were still sitting, reassuring, on the back seat. The hunters had me freaked out. Honestly, I would have felt better with a shotgun but I'm sure there is some law or another about carrying one of those around with you. Plus my parents are all "Guns kill people!" which I mean…Sort of obvious right?

Whatever, I drove over to Max's camp, stopping to get one of those huge slushies from Speedway gas station. Then I sat there in the parking lot, happily slurping away at my cherry icee of deliciousness and waiting for the swarm of children to appear over the top of the hill.

I had gotten there too early, and bored, I started glancing around the parking lot. My mouth fell open, and I practically dropped my huge 44 Oz cup when I saw the black car parked across the lot. Had I grown lax in my paranoia? Had that car been there when I pulled in?

Suddenly, I was furious. It is one thing to stalk me all over town, stupid hunters. But creeping on my brother? No way. The little bugger might annoy the piss out of me most the time, but he is still my family. I was overcome with a nasty protective streak I never knew I possessed; I got out of the car and reached into the backseat.

Baseball bat in hand, I glanced around the parking lot. Spotting no one, I started over to the old black car. Grinning with reckless abandonment, never even thinking about the revenge I could face at the hands of the hunters, I swung.

The bat connected with the metal with a satisfying _THWACK! _However, the old car was built to be much sturdier then new cars. Taking more careful aim, I knocked out the right tail light. I was about to swing again when I felt someone grab on tightly to my wrist.

I felt my eyes widen for a millisecond when I realized I had been caught. Of course, I was being rather loud, vandalizing someone's car. Whoever grabbed my wrist spun me around, twisting my hand down so that the bat landed with a useless clang onto the pavement.

And suddenly I was pressed down to the shiny black surface of the car, wrists pinned on either side of me. Above me, I recognized the older of the two young guys. He was quite a bit taller than me and used it as leverage when I tried to break his grip, which didn't budge. He had light brown, spiky hair, and mischievous hazel eyes that made me think naughty things even in my current predicament.

I jerked a knee up, intent on catching him in his ouch zone. But he moved faster than me, pinning my legs to the car with his. He smirked at the frustration on my face. "Don't mess with the car. One day it's going to be mine," he warned.

"You're just lucky I didn't buy that shotgun," I told him, eyes narrowed.

He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by someone behind him. "Dean, let her go!" another guy called. Lifting my head up, I saw for the first time that the other younger man was there as well. He was even taller than the first one, Dean or whoever, but was gangly as if the growth spurt had been sudden.

His brown eyes were worried beneath shaggy brown hair. Dean replied, "I'm not hurting her. I just don't want her let loose on my baby again."

"_Dean!" _The younger one called, his voice turning pleading. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes.

I squirmed. "You really should let me up," I told him, frowning.

"Oh? Why's that?" he asked tauntingly.

I looked down pointedly at his knee. "Because your knee is pressing on my bladder and I just chugged 44 ounces of slushy," I explained.

"Fine, fine," he groaned, releasing me and taking a step back. As if sensing my next move, he grabbed the bat up before I could move for it.

I straightened up from the hood of the car, glaring ruefully at him. Taking a step forward, I poked him, hard, in the chest. "Just who do you think you are, following me around?" I demanded. Dean stared back coolly.

The younger one appeared by his side, frowning. "I'm really sorry if we scared you-"

"Scared me!? You mean by parking outside my house at night or watching me at Burger King or showing up at my little brother's camp!?" I shrieked. "Oh, no! Why would I be scared?" I asked sarcastically.

Dean slapped my hand lightly away from his chest. "Lower your voice," he ordered. "And so what if you were scared? That is no excuse for going after a guy's c_ar-_"

"Look, we can explain," the younger guy spoke up. "My name is Sam, this is Dean. We're-"

"Hunters of the supernatural?" I asked, cutting him off. Their mouths fell open at precisely the same time, rather comical looking. "Look, if you're going to off me, do it now. But leave my little brother out of it. And stay away from Stephanie! Just because she can shape shift doesn't mean she's a bad person!" I insisted.

Dean turned to Sam, looking alarmed. "Should we?"

"We really don't have a choice," Sam said sadly.

I gulped, goose bumps standing up on my skin as I realized what they were talking about. They were going to kill me. Why did I have to be such a smart mouth and suggest it to them? Gah, sarcasm would be the bane of my existence!

"Uh, look I was joking, please don't kill me!" I squeaked. Dean just laughed, moving forward as if to grab me. Squealing, I tried to make a run for it. But apparently hunters are not just jerks with old cars, they actually have very fast reflexes. All the better for kidnapping me.

Dean grabbed me, automatically pinning my arms in preparation for a struggle. I shoved off the ground, throwing my body weight back against him to try to throw him off balance. I took a self defense class once, where they told me adrenaline could make you much stronger than usual. I doubted the instructor at the time.

I can now tell you from experience, all adrenaline does is make your heart pound out of your chest and your hands shake a lot. All the fancy defense moves I had once learned went out of my head as I kicked out in a panic, screeching. My foot caught the side mirror of the car, cracking it down the center, as Dean stuffed his hand over my mouth.

"Open the door Sam! She's feisty!" he ordered, swearing loudly when I sunk my teeth into his hand. The metallic taste of his blood flooded my mouth as he shoved me into the huge backseat of the car, landing right on top of me.

All the air went out of my chest at the pressure of his weight, and try as I might to scream it was all I could do to breathe. I heard the door slam shut and Sam got into the driver's seat, starting the car with a rumble. In retrospect I think it a shame that a teenage girl can disappear from a parking lot in the middle of the day and it not be noticed. But whatever, I'll shut up about the failings of our society.

There I was, pinned to the sticky leather in the backseat of a rumbling car by a guy I would normally fantasize about being in such a position with. Only it was far from romantic as, oh right, he was going to kill me. Dean swore once again, checking over his hand. There was a crescent line of even teeth marks, leaking blood.

Dean propped himself up slightly then, allowing me a little more space to breathe. In the back of my mind, I was relieved I had managed to inflict some amount of harm to him. At least now they could match my dental records to the wound. A tear leaked out of my eye at that thought. Poor Max, what would he think when I wasn't there to pick him up?

I felt the car accelerating and tried to pick my head up enough to see out the window. Surely another driver would notice me being held against my will? Dean must have noticed because he got a huge smile on his face.

"Even if someone saw, they'd think we're just having fun," he explained, settling himself more comfortably on top of me.

"You're disgusting," I snarled, making a face. He shrugged slightly.

"Honestly, I been called worse…"

"Really? Like a filthy, slug-like, douche bag, king of creeps who, even if sent to the gates of hell, would be rejected because you are _that _horrible that Satan himself would not want to see your face?" I asked icily, still only able to take shallow breaths under him.

He thought that over. "Actually, that comes close…But if Satan turns me away from the gates of hell because he can't stand to see my face, I'm sure that's just cuz I'm too pretty," Dean retorted arrogantly.

I sighed, instead looking up to the driver's seat. "Sam?" I asked sadly. I saw his brown eyes flicker to me in the rearview mirror. He looked upset. Good. He was clearly the more sane of the two. "Sam, please don't do this…"

"We're just going to talk," Sam said weakly.

"Yeah, talk. Unless you turn out to be one of those dogs," Dean told me.

I glared up at him. "I'm not. Don't you think if I were, I'd have changed already? It would be a little easier to defend myself against psycho stalkers that way," I ground out.

"Maybe. Maybe not, if you're trying to hide it," he said, uninterested.

I sighed, glancing back at the front of the car. I caught Sam looking back at me again in the rearview mirror. "Sam, please don't let him hurt me," I said, pleadingly.

Above me, Dean snorted. "Sam's not in charge here," he told me.

Sam said quietly from the front seat, "If you haven't done anything wrong, I won't."

I felt a tiny bubble of hope form in my chest. The younger of my abductors was clearly guilty. I could totally try to use that to my advantage, despite the psycho currently straddling me. Outside the window, I saw freeway signs flashing by. I wondered where they were taking me. It was about that time I remembered the oldest of the three, the middle aged man. Were they taking me to him?

Gulping, I tried to force the prickling in my eyes to stop. I was unsuccessful as several tears started flowing down my face. Dean noticed a minute later and actually cringed, uncomfortable. "Stop crying," he ordered. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Because rudely telling me to stop being upset is really going to make me feel so much better," I said, sniffling.

Dean made a face. "Just…stop, okay? If you're telling the truth we won't hurt you," he said, his voice that had previously been taunting and smug now turning more gentle.

I searched his gaze until he glanced away, and then I proceeded to watch the scenery flash by the window, the faint taste of his blood still lingering in my mouth. Mentally, I cursed Kaden for telling me I was a mediator, and Stephanie for finding me. I cursed Hank the ghost and my grandmother and my glowing aura. I even cursed my bologna sandwich and anything else I could think of.

Above me, Dean started humming something that I soon identified as Metallica. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back on the seat and I listened to the song. It might seem weird, but I actually relaxed then. For the time being, there was nothing that could be done about the current situation. If I even tried to struggle again, I would be restrained, judging by the coil of rope underneath the passenger seat.

And there is just something about an adrenaline rush followed by an abduction by possible murderers that just tires a girl out, making her more than a little comforted by one of those crazed kidnapper's humming.


	4. Communication Breakdown

**Beacon**

Chapter Four: Communication Breakdown

When I felt the car come to a sudden stop, I opened my eyes again. Dean, who had been lounging back on the seat, sat up straight. I immediately went for the door farthest from him, but he pulled me back. "Hey-HEY!" He yelled, and I fell still, looking at his stern face. "Just cooperate, okay? If you try to run you won't get far," he threatened.

Trembling, I nodded. Behind him, Sam opened the door, and Dean got out, pulling me along by the arm. I stepped down onto the ground, glancing up as Dean locked an arm around me. We were at a dingy motel, with a moldy roof and peeling paint. "Fun, is this where you're going to torture and murder me?" I asked, grimacing.

"Just walk," Dean commanded. "Sam, get the bag out of the trunk."

I did as he said, though I glanced around. The parking lot was deserted, which wasn't surprising considering they had modern hotels nowadays. Far away I could make out the main road, above it a yellowed sign that read 'Ramshackle Road Motel'.

Ramshackle is right, I thought, as Dean unlocked the door and opened it. He gestured in at the small room. "Ladies first," he insisted.

I stepped through the doorway, noting a line of salt across it. Raising my eyebrows, I noticed a similar line across the window sill. The room was dirty and unkempt. It was wallpapered over with newspaper articles and pictures, they covered at least one entire wall.

There were two queen beds, both messy and slept in, and a cot that looked untouched. Several duffle bags sat on the vomit-inducing shade of green carpet, their contents tumbling out in the form of rumpled shirts and worn jeans. One had an array of items in it, including a large gun and machete. A freaking machete. The goose bumps instantly returned to my skin.

Sam entered the room last, a bag slung across his shoulders, and Dean shut and locked the door behind him. He deposited the key in the pocket of his pants. I fidgeted closer to the night stand, until the phone was mere inches away from my fingertips. Dean was preoccupied unpacking whatever was in the bag, Sam beside him.

"Where's Dad? Shouldn't he be here by now?" Sam asked, nervous.

I took a deep breath before knocking the phone receiver off its stand. It made a slight noise, but luckily Dean chose that moment to plunk a huge container of lighter fluid down and it masked the noise. "He'll be back soon," he replied, shrugging one shoulder. I glanced down only for a second to hit the 9 before my eyes shot back to my abductors.

"We can't just keep her here! If she isn't one of them, it's kidnapping! And if she is, they'll come looking!" Sam protested worriedly. I hit the 1.

"Let them," Dean retorted, cocking a gun and sticking it into the waistband of his jeans. "Less work for us if they come to us," he said reasonably.

Sam sighed heavily, just as I hit 1 for the second time. Then I held my breath. I couldn't hear anything coming from the earpiece but I prayed they would answer and send the police or something. That's about the time Dean turned around and noticed the phone off the hook. He stared at it for a minute before looking up at me regretfully.

"Oh sweetheart, I disconnected that long before you got here," he told me.

Eyebrows shooting up in disbelief, I grabbed the phone up and held it to my ear. True to his word, Dean had done something to disconnect it. It was dead. Angry, I threw it back down. "I have to go to the bathroom," I announced, beyond frustrated.

Sam nodded, gesturing to the far wall, where a small doorway was left open. "It's right there," he told me.

I made my way around the double beds, and just as I entered the bathroom Dean called after me, "Leave the door open too."

I whirled around, staring in disbelief at the pervert. "No. Way," I ground out. "You've manhandled me and taken me against my will, I am not about to let you peep on my tom!" I exclaimed.

Dean wrinkled up his nose. "Manhandled you? What is this, the seventeenth century? And trust me, I don't wanna peep on anything. But I don't need you sneaking through the window."

I couldn't believe my ears. I turned to look at Sam, who was actually blushing and staring down at his toes. "Dean, that window isn't even large enough for her to fit through," he argued reasonably.

I turned to look at the small window situated above the sink. Maybe if I spent all eighteen years of my life thus far training to be a contortionist I could make it work. Unfortunately, my parents didn't raise me in a travelling circus. Dean just made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Go on and shut the door. Just don't take too long or I can't guarantee he won't come barging in," Sam told me, jerking a thumb back at his older brother. At least I assumed they were brothers now, after hearing them talk about 'Dad'.

I nodded, attempting to give him a small, grateful smile. I failed, however, and probably ended up just looking slightly less miserable. I shut the door and did my thing, washing my hands just as an impatient knock came on the door. "Hold on, I'm almost done!" I called out in aggravation.

* * *

"Will you sit down already? You're making me nervous," Dean complained loudly. He was lying on his back, diagonally across the bed nearest the door. His arms were crossed under his head, one of his hands wrapped with ace bandage.

"Good!" I snapped back. "That makes two of us!"

"Three," he corrected, nodding his head over at Sam. Sam hadn't left the window in the few hours we'd been waiting, he just sat there watching. "Sammy is just a bundle of nerves, aren't ya?" he asked, sounding bored.

Sam turned to glare at his brother. "Shut up," he said lowly.

"No. What has your panties all in a twist?" Dean drawled, head lolling to the side so he could smile at his younger brother.

"Jerk," Sam muttered beneath his breath.

"Bitch," Dean shot back.

I sighed, finally sitting down on the bed next to the bathroom. I sat only at the edge, reluctant to recline farther since I didn't know who had previously slept there. It was starting to get dark out already, and Dean reached over to the lamp between the beds and clicked it on. Outside the grimy motel room window, the car was still the only one in the lot. I had never been so bored in my life. Surprising, considering the life threatening situation.

My stomach gave a grumble and Sam glanced back. He frowned. "Oh, are you hungry?" I shrugged a shoulder, reluctant to admit that I was indeed starving. "All we have are Spaghetti-O's and some leftover Chinese food, but help yourself," he said kindly, gesturing over at the small kitchenette opposite the beds. There were indeed several cans of Spaghetti-O's stacked by the stove top. You'd think for a last meal, a girl could at least get a steak.

"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you? Don't feed stray dogs, they'll start hanging around," Dean drawled, eyes shut.

I picked up a pair of socks folded together into a ball from the nearest bag and whipped them at Dean, catching him right in the gut. He flinched, making a noise more out of irritation than pain. "Do that again and I'll tie you up," he warned, eyes jerking over to the rope Sam had brought in from the car. It sat in a messy coil by the front door.

Sam sighed heavily. "Dean, I don't think she's a werewolf."

"Then why is she hanging out with one?" the older brother retorted.

"Werewolves can only change at the full moon. Stephanie is a shape shifter, not a werewolf," I corrected him. "And she came to me for help because I am some sort of therapist for the supernatural, supposedly."

"Oh? And what planet is that on?" Dean asked, sitting up suddenly to fix me with a defiant glare. "Because where I'm from, humans don't get along too well with the supernatural. They certainly don't sit around talking about their feelings together."

I grit my teeth in frustration, because that is exactly what Stephanie and I had done the previous day. But trying to explain that to Mr. Dean, badass hunter of the supernatural, was like repeatedly ramming my head into a concrete wall just for kicks. So I just gave up and stayed silent. Until I noticed his hand once more and couldn't help myself.

"How's your hand feeling?" I asked, grinning.

He narrowed his hazel eyes, before a snarky smile filled his face. "Not bad. I've had worse bites, though the girls that gave me those were sure as hell a lot more appreciative than you…"

I raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Yeah? Did any of them win an Oscar for the performance?"

Dean scowled. "Laugh it up, honey. You're just sorry that when I tie you up, it's not gonna be for fun…"

Sam intervened with an impatient groan. "No one is tying anyone up, for fun or any other reason!" he announced. "Stop bickering, you two."

"Yes father," Dean ground out sarcastically, finally relaxing back onto the bed again.

I sighed. "If I were a werewolf, wouldn't you be a little more worried about the fact that I gnawed on your hand?" I asked reasonably.

"Werewolf bites are only infectious if the giver is currently transformed when the wound is inflicted," Sam said monotonously, as if reading from a book. I made a noise of disbelief. What would it take to convince them?

Dean's eyes shot over to me. "Okay, so maybe I believe you that you're not a dog…We watched your house last night, and it was a full moon. But that doesn't mean we can just let you go."

My mouth fell open as I fixed him with a stare of disbelief. "Uh-why not?"

"Because, my-" Dean began to say impatiently, but Sam stood up suddenly next to the window, his cheap plastic chair toppling over behind him.

"Dad," Sam announced.

"Exactly, my dad wouldn't like it," Dean concluded.

Outside the window, where it was now fully pitch black, a pair of headlights were visible. Someone pulled into the parking spot right next to the big black car we had arrived in. "_No, Dean,_ Dad is here!" Sam repeated as if speaking to someone very dull.

"Oh!" Dean jerked, plopping his feet down onto the floor and jumping up from the bed quickly. As the door to the new mystery car opened, and a man got out that I couldn't quite see, the brothers' attitudes transformed. Sam immediately looked aggravated, but straightened in attention, his jaw clenched and hands formed into fists.

Dean, on the other hand, looked blank. His face became emotionless, his back straightening from his usual relaxed posture as he watched, warily, while the man unlocked the door. I held my breath, waiting to see the psycho who had his two sons trained like soldiers. The guy that entered the room, however, proved to be less than the scary image I had been picturing.

He was definitely the man who had been first driving the big black car when I saw it at Burger King. He was of a tall, burly build, with worn out clothing and mud-caked boots. He had dark brown hair and several days' accumulation of stubble growing on his cheeks and chin. He locked the door slowly behind himself before turning to face us.

His eyes scanned me over once while he shrugged his coat off. I narrowed my eyes, announcing, "I'm not a werewolf."

He nodded, letting his brown leather jacket fall onto the floor. What had been concealed inside was now visible, a gun and two sharp-looking silver knives. "I know that," he said easily.

Surprised, I raised my eyebrows. "Oh. Well Stephanie isn't either. She's a shape shifter," I persisted.

Nodding, the older man conceded, "I know that too."

Dean looked mildly surprised and turned his attention from me to his father. "What?"

The older man sighed, running a hand through his rough-looking hair and suddenly looking tired. He seemed to ignore his son's question as he took a few steps towards me, forcing a small smile onto his face. "My name's John Winchester. You're Jezebel Jones," he said.

I winched. "Yes, that's me. Mind telling me why your dung-brained kids kidnapped me if you already knew all that?"

John's smile seemed to become more real. "It was their orders. At the time I gave them, I wasn't altogether sure about you."

Dean was watching with rapt attention, looking like he wanted to interrupt again. Sam just stared out the window, though it was clear he was listening as well. I gulped. "And now?" I pressed.

"I went to check up on your friend Stephanie. Her parents are shape shifters, too, which means it's passed on genetically, not spread like a disease," John explained. "Which means you can't be one, since you aren't related."

I nodded, relieved. "Yes. Finally, someone with half a brain," I sighed in relief. Dean glared over at me.

John's face turned grim. "That may clear you, but your friend's not off the hook. She may seem innocent at first, but first impressions can be far off. And it still doesn't explain who is behind all the violence suddenly springing up in the area," he said.

I frowned, confused. "Violence in the area?" I repeated, questioningly.

John cast a disapproving glance at his older son. "You didn't tell her?"

Dean scowled. "I didn't know I was supposed to, Sir," he answered.

John shook his head slightly. "There have been three deaths classified by the police as animal attacks. Werewolves, or in this case shape shifters, are probably to blame," he told me.

I immediately shook my head, crossing my arms across my chest. "Nope. No way, Stephanie hasn't killed anyone!"

John held up a hand wearily. "I'm not saying she has, for sure. But a lot of weird stuff has been going on around here, not just the recent attacks. And-"

John stopped halfway through what he was saying as something else caught his attention. I followed his gaze to the window, only to take a step back in surprise when I saw it. Sam had backed up from the window as well, eyes wide. We all stared for a moment at the brilliant orb of light hovering outside the glass.

Then John shouted, "Dean! Fix the salt line!" to his older son, who was nearer the door than any of us. Dean moved to do as he was told, grabbing the canister of salt up from where it was perched on the cheap table. But for once his reflexes were not quick enough, as the ball darted from the window to the door.

Its light shown for a moment along the crack at the bottom, where I now noticed the line of salt running the length of the doorway had been scuffed by someone's shoe. Then the orb passed under, appearing in front of us. In less than a minute it grew brighter, until it was almost blinding, and then was gone.

When the spots finally cleared from my vision, I saw Kaden standing a foot in front of the door. His eyes were literally alight, bright yellow light seeming to glow behind them, as he glared at the eldest of the Winchesters. John was returning the glare, and I suddenly saw he had picked up a shotgun. It was leveled straight at Kaden's chest.

"Jezebel, are you alright?"Kaden asked, though his eyes stayed firmly on the man holding the weapon.

I opened my mouth to speak, but John cut me off. "What do you want, foxfire?" he ground out, stepping in front of me.

Kaden spoke, voice low and threatening. "You cannot harm the mediator," he said. Damn straight, I thought.

"Mediator?" John repeated, confused, his gun lowering a few inches. "You expect me to believe this girl is one of them?"

Kaden's eyes dulled, and now appeared the usual reflective green or hazel. He nodded once. "I know she is. The last one died over a hundred years ago, and now my kind are anxious to reach her. Our problems have been long in building," Kaden said persuasively. "How else would you explain the recent events, hunter? She turned eighteen only days ago."

John considered that, while to the side of Kaden both Sam and Dean were staring warily at him, looking beyond confused. My mind was sent reeling, because I could have sworn Kaden said he knew the last mediator. Which meant he was old, like beyond great-grandparent age, despite his young appearance. Though if the guy could turn himself into a ball of light, really, fighting wrinkles must be a snap.

There were a few tense minutes until finally the oldest of the hunters lowered his weapon completely, and I sighed in relief. "She's why so much activity has been stirring here, huh?" he asked, turning to glance back at me. His gaze was appraising. "She doesn't look like much of a mediator…"

I took offense to that.

"Dad, what the hell is a mediator?" Dean finally interrupted, patience worn out. "What are you talking about?"

John threw a warning glance at his oldest son. "A mediator is a myth, a legend-"

"A myth like everything else you have found to be real, hunter," Kaden pointed out, voice turning cold. "If you deny her existence, how do you justify your life's pursuit?"

John Winchester could only scowl in return, before snapping, "What are you even doing here? It is not your place to defend humans."

"It is when that human is important, and being threatened by your kind," Kaden replied icily, his eyes sparking for a moment. I felt sort of special at that moment, being protected by Kaden, whatever he was. Maybe this mediator thing had its perks.

John shook his head, insisting, "I was not going to hurt her. I just wanted to understand what is happening. If you're right, then she's at the center of it-"

"Dad, _what the hell is a mediator?_" Dean repeated angrily.

"Dean, can't you wait a damn minute?" John replied, frustrated.

"A mediator is marked to the supernatural. They attract it," Kaden told the older son. Dean's eyebrows raised, his mouth falling open slightly. Next to the window, Sam's head finally swiveled back to the room as he too looked surprised.

"Wow. Sucks to be you," Dean commented to me.

Finally, I had had enough of letting the boys argue. "Yes, it sort of does. But now that you know I'm not the one killing people or doing whatever else you're all pissy about, can you let me go?" I asked John.

He shook his head. "If you're really drawing them out, you could be in trouble-"

Immediately, Kaden protested. "She is not. Our kind would never harm her," he said, his voice more than a little accusatory. "Besides, whatever you are currently hunting will try to seek her out. Keep her here, so close to you, and scare it off."

John Winchester slowly got a small smile on his face when he heard that, and it grew as he turned to look at me. I was a little worried that the grumpy hunter was suddenly in a good mood. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, cringing.

He laughed, glancing back at Kaden. "Cause it makes sense. Whatever's killing people, or responsible for the other odd stuff going on…It will come straight to you." He smiled, looking like he had won the lottery or a private island or something.

Sam mad a noise then of disbelief. "Dad, you can't use her as bait!"

"Why not? This thing-" he jerked his head rudely at Kaden, "has already insisted _his kind _won't hurt her. Dean, take her home now. For now, we watch and wait."

Sam looked furious, but his father didn't even seem to notice. With a bang he threw the front door open and stalked out. Dean was just glancing between his father and Kaden, uncertain.

Kaden took a step forward, narrowing his eyes as he stared at John. "I will be watching. Do not let harm come to her, hunter," he warned. Then he glanced at Dean, his expression turning disgusted. "And wipe those thoughts off your mind, vermin," he snapped.

Dean's mouth dropped open. "Hey, I-"

Kaden laughed slightly, the somber, threatening attitude he had held through the entire encounter finally falling. "You are a fool, and excuses are not needed. Get Jezebel home safely," he instructed, and then strode from the room. Which was a letdown, since I had been expecting him to disappear, or glow, or something more impressive.

Dean let out a low growl of irritation. "Stupid freaking poltergeist," he muttered.

"Dean. Take her home. Make sure her house is secure, then back off until her parents go to sleep," John ordered. "I want you to take first shift watching her tonight, I'll pick up in the morning."

"Wo, wo," I interrupted, holding up a hand. "I don't want you creeps parked outside my house all night again!"

John didn't even appear to hear my protests, instead disappearing into the bathroom. Dean was smirking over at me. "It's either that, or you stay here until the freak using people as chew toys comes to find you," he offered.

I took one glance around the motel room, with its dim lighting, stained furniture, and dirty underwear scattered about the floor, and sighed. "Fine!" I conceded, throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation. "Come on, let's go… Stupid jerk…"


	5. Ramble On

**Beacon**

Chapter Five: Ramble On

I slid onto the passenger seat of the car after Dean unlocked it, fidgeting as I waited for him to walk around and climb in the other side. He started the car and automatically stuck a cassette tape into the player, the sounds of Led Zeppelin filling the car. I groaned.

"Your music sucks," I told him. I actually sort of liked Led Zeppelin but I was in the mood to pick a fight over anything.

He backed the car out of the spot before retorting, "Oh, yeah? And what do you listen to? Britney Spears?"

"No," I denied, crossing my arms and turning to stare out the window instead of looking at the obnoxious Dean Winchester. I stayed silent, hoping he would follow suit. Of course, that would mean getting a personality change because clearly Dean wasn't one to stay quiet.

"So why do you have freaks like that thing showing up to protect you?" Dean asked after a moment. "I mean, I get the whole…'I'm a mediator, creepy things like me' bit. But a body guard?"

I turned back to stare in disbelief at him. "Kaden is not a freak, or a creepy thing!" I protested, despite the fact that I knew at some point, I had called Kaden a freak myself.

"Yeah, whatever…" Dean shrugged, taking his hands off the wheel to rustle around in his coat pockets for something. He steered with his knees, making my eyes bug out of their sockets until he finally pulled something out of his jacket and stuck a hand back on the wheel.

What was so important that he risked crashing his precious car and mortally injuring us both, you might ask?

Beef jerky.

I resumed staring moodily out the window until my curiosity got the better of me. Besides, Dean had started singing along to the music at that point and I couldn't stand much more. I turned back, asking, "Um, what exactly is Kaden, anyway?"

Dean scoffed. "Shouldn't you know?"

"I'm new at this!" I shot back. "Humor me. What is he?"

"There's a lot of lore around his type, but I've never met one before. He's ghost light," Dean said, accelerating up to ninety as we merged onto the freeway. I clenched my hands onto the fabric of the seat, pressing my own foot down onto the floor of the car in an attempt to brake. Too bad there weren't any pedals on my side.

"Right," I said once I could breathe again. Dean had successfully shot across all four lanes of traffic and was now barreling along in the fast lane. "Um, what's that?"

"Like…A ghost on steroids," Dean said thoughtfully. "Ghosts are normally just the spirits, and they can be seen as orbs. But foxfire, or ghost lights, have been around long enough to regain some sort of physical shape."

"So he's got his body back?" I asked, grinning as I thought that was pretty cool.

"Sort of. It's only a temporary thing," Dean said, glancing over at me. "He only exists at night, which is probably why he didn't show up earlier."

I nodded. "That is wicked awesome…"

Dean laughed a little, shaking his head. "Supposedly it takes a long time for them to grow that strong, which is odd. They're common in Europe, but like I said-"

"You've never met one before," I finished for him. He waved a hand in agreement. Then he swerved back across the lanes of cars, not bothering to use a turn signal as he exited the freeway. I recognized the area now and knew we would be back to my house soon.

"Look, whatever you do, don't let my parents see you lurking outside tonight," I warned him.

Dean glanced over. "Don't worry about that…"

"You're good at stalking girls, huh?" I asked reasonably.

His eyes narrowed. "I'm good at hunting. It's not my fault if stupid teenage girls decide they want to become magnets for monsters."

"I didn't decide, it just happened!" I objected. "And how did you get into hunting anyway? For the glamorous lifestyle, right?"

"Oh yeah. Those magic finger beds? Make dealing with little brats like you totally worth it," Dean said, voice dripping with sarcasm, as he pulled into my driveway. Before he even put the car into park, the front door opened and my dad emerged.

I sighed. "Just take off, okay? I'll handle it."

"Sorry, no can do," Dean retorted. "I was told to make sure the house is secure."

I gaped at him. My father was starting down the driveway. Groaning, I threw open the door on the old car and emerged. My dad was looking a little frustrated, which was a lot considering he normally had about as many emotions as a tin can. "What are you doing home so late!?" He asked. "Your mother was worried…"

I slammed the door shut and turned to glare accusingly at Dean. "I'm home so late because he kidnapped me!"I announced indignantly.

My dad raised a skeptical eyebrow before looking Dean over. Then he glanced back at me, "Jess, you don't have to make up lies like that. I understand if you were on a date or something…"

"No, Dad, he _kidnapped me-_"I insisted.

Dean laughed, coming around the car and actually shaking my dad's hand. "Sorry I had her out so late, sir. My name's Dean Winchester," he said apologetically, giving a nervous grin.

My dad nodded, glancing over Dean's shoulder to take in the huge black car. "Nice car," he commented appreciatively. "It's a '67 Impala, right?"

Dean nodded, his smile growing wider. "Yeah, she's in good shape, huh? Except for my taillight, some punk smashed it out…"

My dad shook his head. "Kids these days, don't have any appreciation for older cars. You must be pretty alright," he announced. I was stunned. Not once in my entire life had my dad called anyone of the male sex that supposedly liked me 'alright.' And Dean Winchester had just managed to win him over in less than a minute.

Too bad I still couldn't stand him. Groaning, I stepped up between them to try to snap my dad's attention back to me. "Dean really has to go, Dad. He's got to get to bed, he's got a court appearance early in the morning. If he doesn't make it that will be violating parole-" I lied, hoping to convince him how wrong he was to like the annoying twat.

Dad, however, only waved a hand. "Enough, Jess. Get inside, it's late. It was nice to meet you, Dean," he said.

As I stomped back to the house I glanced back to see Dean give me a thumbs up, grinning broadly. I flicked him off. Inside the house, my mom was waiting to pounce on me.

"Max was stuck at camp for an hour and a half waiting for me to pick his up this afternoon," she pointed out, her voice tight. I could already tell she was beyond pissed and just controlling herself, there was practically smoke leaking out of her nose.

"Mom, I'm really sorry, I forgot-" I lied, not even bothering to make my voice believable.

It was enough, she took off in her rant. "It's so irresponsible of you! We ask you to do a few simple things around the house and you can't even remember!? Your brother could have been kidnapped in the time he was waiting there-"

I snorted, already beginning to tune her out. Out of her two children, one actually had been kidnapped that day. The one currently being berated. I stood there, nodding at all of the right times until eventually my mom ran out of smoke. Finally, she just asked, "Where is the car?"

"Er…" I muttered, fidgeting. "I uh…sorta left it at the camp parking lot, when Dean showed up."

"Who?" My mom snapped.

Dad seemed to become aware of our conversation from where he was sitting in the living room, reclined in a lazy boy. "Boy who took her out. Seems nice. Great taste in cars," he called over, eyes glued to the newspaper spread in front of his face.

"…Oh, I see," she narrowed her eyes. "You left your brother to go see some boy?"

"It's not like that, mom-" I began to protest. She held up a hand to interrupt me.

"It will not happen again," She stated firmly, turning her back on me as she strode towards her office. "Your father will take you to pick up your car."

From his reclined chair, Dad gave a groan.

* * *

The next morning I awoke at an annoying eight o'clock sharp. I rolled out of bed, shoving my hair out of my face to peer out the drapes of my window. No car was parked on my street, but I knew better than to assume that meant the Winchesters were gone. Sighing, I flipped on the light so I could better see the clothes in my closet.

Then I stared. Every wall of my room was covered in scribbles. Over and over again, someone had scrawled "Kate" across the pristine white paint. Peering closer, I saw that it had actually been done in crayon. My parents were going to murder me.

"Hank!" I wailed! "This is so not cool! I thought we were communicating!"

My door cracked open and Max stuck his head in. "Jess, what are you scr-Wow!" He entered the room fully, turning to take in the pesky ghost's idea of an art project. "Mom and Dad are going to kill you!" he announced, grinning broadly.

At first I was about to agree with him, but then my brain kicked into overdrive. And I freely admit it, I practically cackled at the sudden genius idea that entered my mind. "No, Max, they're going to kill you! What were you thinking?"

His assured smirk faltered, then fell. "What are you talking about? I didn't do this!"

"Sure you did. You've been acting out for the past month. Stealing Mr. Orson's lawn flamingos, flushing Mom's blackberry down the toilet-"

"You can't pin this on me!" He interrupted indignantly.

"I mean, it would only make sense that you did this," I concluded. "Mom and Dad will assume it was you anyway." I smiled in satisfaction. Sure, there was a part of me that acknowledged how terrible it was to be shoving the blame off on my little brother. But hey, the kid was practically screaming for attention with his behavior anyway. Why not toss a little extra his way?

Max seemed to realize just how right I was in saying our parents would assume him to be the culprit. He gulped. "This isn't fair Jess."

I sighed. "Well, don't say I'm not a good big sister. I'm gonna go see if I can find something to scrub it off. If not, well, that's life, kid," I said sympathetically, brushing past him to leave my bedroom and giving him a comforting pat on the head.

I trudged into the bathroom, showered and made some attempt at looking cute. Granted, I was only going to the grocery store. But now that I had Kaden popping up left and right and stupid, arrogant, but admittedly very cute hunters tracking me, I wanted to look my best. Unfortunately, my genes decided it just was not meant to be. My hair was doing its own flip twirl twist and frizz thing, and my lame attempts at makeup did little for me.

I ended up scrubbing my face clean and leaving the house in a ponytail, which bounced as if celebrating my defeat.

Or maybe that was just me being emo.

Whatever. I got to my car and was in the process of unlocking my door when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. Raising my eyebrows, I turned around. Sam Winchester was standing on my driveway, tall and lanky. He was staring down at his converse-clad feet as if feeling awkward. "Uh…Sorry, my dad is making me keep tabs on you…"

"Sort of figured one of you was around," I said, shrugging. He glanced up behind shaggy brown hair before quickly looking away.

"Um, I'm really sorry but I can't let you go anywhere alone," he confessed.

I smiled, deciding that I would much rather have this brother anyway. "It's okay. I don't suppose you'd wanna tag along with me to the grocery store?" I asked. He finally looked up at me, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Sure, yeah," he said, crossing the driveway. I hit the unlock button and he climbed into the passenger seat of my car, head practically touching the ceiling.

I backed out of my driveway, then drove as Sam fidgeted with the seat until he gained slightly more headroom. I bit back a laugh. "You are really tall," I pointed out.

He scoffed. "Yeah, I know. This time last year I was half this height," he replied.

I laughed, letting a few minutes of silence pass. "So…"

"So?" he asked.

"Where were you hiding all this morning? I couldn't see you from my window," I stated.

He grinned, glancing down at his hands. "Your next door neighbors are on vacation for a week…"

"You broke in their house!?" I accused instantly, eyes wide.

"It's not breaking in if you find the key. Why do people always leave it under a rock or something right by the front door? It's so predictable," he commented reasonably.

I couldn't help but laugh a little, even as I made a mental note to change the location of my own family's spare key. "So you've been camped out in the Orson's house, eh?"

Sam nodded. "Their cat freaks me out though," he said.

Pulling into the parking lot of the store, I glanced over. "Oh? Why's that?"

"First things first, it weighs like forty pounds. At least," He said, ticking off one finger. "Secondly, it just sits and stares at me. And third, whenever you try to talk to it, it makes this horrible yowling noise like it's dying."

I blinked. "It's communicating," I finally said sensibly.

Sam shook his head. "It's possessed."

I laughed, throwing my car door open and stepping out of the car. "Yeah? Its head doesn't twirl 360 degrees does it?" I quipped.

Sam emerged, squinting in the bright sunlight as he gave me another slow grin. "No, that stuff is just in the movies. But I might have sprinkled it with holy water…"

"You sprayed a cat with water?" I repeated. "No wonder it yowls at you."

Sam shrugged. "I don't like cats."

"Fair enough," I agreed. The automatic doors slid open in front of us as we approached the Kroger, and I strolled in, only to stop. "Er…so do you want to know the purpose of this quest?"

"Um, sure?" Sam asked. "What are you looking for?"

"Something to remove scribbled crayon from walls," I explained, before lowering my voice. "I've got this pesky ghost that had some fun last night."

Sam's eyebrows shot up, before he asked, alarmed, "Why didn't you say anything sooner!?"

I blinked "Um, I don't know-"

Linking his arm through mine, he proceeded to tow me along the aisles of the store. "First off, we need salt. Lots of it. Secondly, we're gonna need something iron-I don't suppose your dad has a fire poker maybe-"

"How is salt and a fire poker going to remove crayon from my bedroom walls?" I asked, confused. Sam stopped his hectic race to the salt aisle and turned to stare at me.

"What do you mean? The crayon is the least of your problems!" He announced, lowering his voice. "It could be dangerous! We've got to find out what's keeping it here, find it's bones…Salt and burn them…" he muttered, again towing me along with his ridiculously fast paced walk.

"Why would you put salt on bones?" I questioned, beyond confused.

Sam huffed impatiently before coming to a stop in front of the spices. He grabbed two huge canisters of iodized salt before rolling his eyes. "It's how you kill a ghost and make sure it doesn't come back," he explained, tossing one of the canisters my way.

I fumbled before managing to catch it, then planted my feet when he attempted to haul me away once more. "Wait! I don't want to kill it!"

He blinked once. Twice. Then his mouth fell open with confusion. "What? What do you mean?"

"Did I st-st-studder?" I asked. "I don't want to kill Hank. I just maybe want to teach him a few manners, but that's all." Sam was looking at me like I was beyond the brink of insanity. I tried to explain, "He came to me for help, Sam, I can't go lighting his corpse aflame!"

A woman strolling down the aisle cast an alarmed look over at us before picking up her pace. Sam was still looking at me doubtfully. "It's just not my style, okay? I don't want to hurt anything, unlike you hunters," I said distastefully, turning my back on him. I had for a while thought this younger brother to be okay, but now he was turning out to be just like the rest of his family.

Kaden's words echoed through my head, repeating his warning. Sam sputtered indignantly, easily catching up to me as I tossed the salt into a bin of watermelons and strode toward the cleaning supplies. "Hey, we only hurt what deserves it-"

I made a noise of disbelief in the back of my throat, not bothering to reply. Sam stepped in front of me, forcing me to stop or run into straight into his chest. "Look, Jess, I'm sorry. I assumed it was like most of the ghosts I've ran into," he explained in a whisper. "And they were dangerous. Maybe you're right and this one just wants help, but you should still be careful. And be prepared," he added, waving the canister of salt.

I slowly let the glare fall from my face before sighing. "Fine, apology accepted. And fine, I'll buy your stupid salt," I conceded. Sam grinned in victory. "But I'm not wielding a fire poker anytime soon."

"Fine," he agreed.


	6. Bring it on Home

**Beacon**

Chapter Six: Bring it on Home

Sam sighed before throwing down the sponge in defeat. "This is going to take years to scrub off," he complained. "And you said your parents get home by five."

I rubbed my neck, grimacing. "Yeah…" Glancing around, I saw we had barely made any progress. By mixing together about five different cleaners and using a lot of elbow grease we managed to get some of the crayon off, but it was slow going. "Guess that means Max is doomed. How about a lunch break?" I asked, shrugging.

Sam's face lit up. "Sure. What d'you have to eat around here? All that was left in the Orson's fridge was an egg and some green peppers," he complained.

"You won't find much more here," I sighed. "My parents never go grocery shopping, and I haven't been in days. We should've bought something back at that Kroger…"

Sam grinned. "You saw the kitchenette in our little slice of heaven, it's not much better. I live off Spaghetti O's."

I laughed, before pointing out, "Well, they must be working for you. You're like eight foot tall."

He shook his head, insisting, "Back when we were a lot younger, Dean and I used to joke that if Dad didn't hurry up and finish the job he'd come back to the motel to find us roasting rats over the stove."

I laughed, then retorted, "I'm sure Dean wouldn't have a problem with that."

Sam blinked before asking, "What, with eating rats?" I nodded, smirking. "You know, Dean isn't that bad…" the younger brother insisted.

I gave a noise of disbelief. "He's cocky, annoying-"

Sam's face was serious as he interrupted me. "I'm not saying he isn't a lot of things. Just…when we were younger, Dean, he…he pretty much raised me. You know? Most of the time he's a pain in the ass but when it comes down to it…He's a good guy."

I blinked. Even I knew better than to come back with some sarcastic remark when someone was being serious and heartfelt. Glancing down, feeling awkward all of a sudden, I started nervously picking at the sponge I held in my hands.

"Hey?"

At Sam's curious tone, I glanced up. He seemed to have taken a renewed interest in the crayon on the walls. "Have you seen this ghost yet?" he asked, using one long finger to trace the name 'Kate'.

"No. Why?" I asked, tossing the sponge into the nearest bucket of water.

"The handwriting….Looks like a little kids. You got a library around here?" Sam asked, dropping his hand from the wall and looking hopefully back at me.

I scoffed. "Of course we have a library. Its', like, five minutes from here."

He nodded. "We should stop there. But first, we need food."

I couldn't help but smile. "I like how you think."

* * *

"I forgot how good real food tastes," The youngest hunter marveled at a plate of potato skins. "I'm so tired of food in cans. Or food that can sit in your car for three years and not look any different when you find it again…"

"McDonald's fries," I offered up. "The only thing, along with cockroaches, that will survive nuclear war." We were sitting in a restaurant down the street from the library, having just ordered.

Sam laughed, nodding. His hair fell into his eyes, as I noticed it had a habit of doing, and he brushed it away absentmindedly. "So how does it work?" I asked, suddenly curious.

"Well I imagine there are a lot of preservatives that prevent mold-"

"No, no," I started laughing. "I don't mean the fries. I mean….what you do. With Dean, and your dad. Do you guys just….Travel around the country, looking out for weird stuff?" I clarified, taking a sip of coke.

"Pretty much, yeah," Sam sighed. "Sometimes we get tipped off from others…Sometimes we find it on our own. Once you know the signs, it's pretty easy to figure out what's normal and what….isn't."

"Huh…" I swirled my spoon through garlic mashed potatoes, picturing Sam in different states, all across the United States, coming across werewolves, and vampires… "Wait, so are vampires real then?" I asked suddenly, excited.

Sam laughed before lowering his voice, "No. Not one bit."

I heaved a sigh. "Figures…" The mental image I had changed, and instead of picturing Sam and Dean in glorious states of supernatural battle, I saw them in crummy motels eating cheap take out food. What a life. "So… Do you go to school then?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah of course. I mean, not the same one…We move around a lot. But I've only got another year to go then I won't have to worry about it."

"You're going to college?" I asked, before wishing I would have bit my tongue. The look that came over Sam's face at the mention of college made me instantly regret the question.

"Um…I don't know if that's really an option for me." Was all he said before turning his gaze out the window we were seated by. I let the subject drop as well, pretending to be extremely interested in the ice chips in my glass of coke. Until curiosity got the better of me and I glanced up at his face once more. It was blank, eyes staring at some distant spot in the parking lot.

Suddenly, he turned back to the table and me, and asked, "Are you going away to college?"

"Oh…" I didn't want to admit to him that I was, since it was clearly something he wanted. Finally I shrugged. "Yeah," I admitted reluctantly.

"Huh… What are you majoring in?" Sam asked, though instead of the easy going voice he had used before, now his question sounded strained. It reminded me of someone forced to make conversation.

"Biology, I think," I told him.

A faint smile crossed his lips and I inwardly sighed in relief. For some reason I had taken a liking to his smile. "That's cool," he said. "I had to take biology last year, we got to dissect a rat."

I knew my eyes were practically lighting up at that point. I know it makes me sound like a future serial killer, but I love dissecting things. Not alive things, I would never do that, but hey, if it's already dead… "Ooh! Me too! I got to pick my rat first because everyone else in class didn't want to. I picked the one that died with his fist up in the air and his tongue out," I told him excitedly.

Sam started laughing, dropping his fork with a clatter to the table. "We got to dissect a squid too!" I continued happily. "I was the only one who could get the eye out in one piece!"

Sam nodded, half in entertainment, half impressed. "My class didn't do a squid, just a crayfish. That was kinda boring."

"You two are freaks."

Startled, I jumped a bit at the voice before realizing Dean was standing a foot from our table, face serious, eyebrows nearly meeting the line of his spiky hair. "Seriously. You take a girl on a date and talk about taking apart dead things, Sam! Have I taught you nothing!"

Sam's face was bright red, even the bit of his ears I could see through his hair were red. "Shut up, Dean."

"No, really, I mean I'm happy for you…Never thought you'd meet someone just as weird as you," Dean continued.

"Shut _up, _Dean," Sam repeated, voice strained with embarrassment.

"Why are you here?" I asked with a sigh.

"Couldn't sleep. Decided to cruise over to your place, but I found it empty. Figured it was my brotherly duty to make sure everything was okay," Dean said, puffing his chest out from under his brown leather jacket.

"Dean, believe it or not, I can handle things on my own!" Sam shot back indignantly.

"Sure…So…" Dean plopped down onto my side of the booth, and I automatically slid over until I was pressed against the window. He plucked a fry from Sam's plate. "Where's the waitress? Do they have good pie around here?"

I sighed, glancing over to where Sam's face was still a faint shade of pink. "Would asking him to leave get me anywhere?" I asked the younger brother. Sam shook his head, resigned. "Thought so…"

"Seriously! Can I get some pie?" Dean called out, eyes wandering the restaurant.

* * *

"So where are we off to now?" Dean asked cheerily as we stepped outside the restaurant. He had eaten half an apple pie. I was still in mild shock at the sheer amount of food he could cram inside his cheeks at once. Dean Winchester was like a chipmunk with a gun.

"_We _are off to the library. Wanna come?" Sam asked, smirking at his older brother like he already knew the answer. Dean immediately made a face.

"The library? Holy hell, you two really are perfect for each other," he announced. Sam set his jaw in irritation.

"I'll take that as a no. So go back to the motel, Dean. Watch` some crappy pay per view porn or something," Sam snapped, leading the way to my car. I dug my keys out of my pocket.

"Porn? Sammy, get your head out of the gutter!" Dean retorted, face alight with amusement. He apparently was very entertained with teasing his brother. I stuck the key into my car door, hitting the unlock button once I got my door open.

Sam swung the passenger side door open, complaining, "How many times do I have to tell you? Sammy is a fat twelve year old. It's _Sam._"

"Yeah, Deanie-poo, get it right!" I called across the car, tone irritated. Sam chuckled under his breath.

"You hitting on me, Jess?" Dean asked, one corner of his lips lifting up arrogantly. I stared at him blankly.

"I would sooner make out with the dead, dissected rat," I told him monotonously, climbing into my car and slamming the door shut. Sam and I immediately rolled the windows down, it was hot inside the car. Any sane person would be wearing short sleeves, but there was Dean in the parking spot next to us, in his leather jacket, laughing.

"Oh honey, you can dissect me anytime!" Dean called back, climbing into the drivers side of the huge black Impala.

I hurriedly backed my car out of the spot, hoping Dean wouldn't follow us. "Too bad I didn't mention the fate of that rat…" I muttered.

"What?" Sam asked, confused.

"I accidently cut its….you know. Off," I replied, pulling around the parking lot to wait at the stop sign. I saw a gap in traffic and pulled out, headed towards the public library. Behind me, a dull rumble followed.

"Its…You cut its…." Sam repeated, sounding both alarmed and disgusted. "How!"

"Scalpels are sharp!" I said defensively. "We had to identify the sex and I was trying to cut the skin to see if we were working with testicles or not and I slipped…."

"Ugh," was all Sam said, but I did notice a slight shiver run through his body despite the hot sun glaring down on the car. Not three minutes later I pulled into the library parking lot, the rumbling following. Dean had apparently chosen the library over porn. I hadn't known the guy more than a day but even I was surprised.

Sam got out as Dean pulled up next to us, grinning annoyingly. "You seriously wanna do research with us?" the younger brother asked in disbelief.

"Sure," Dean announced, climbing back out of the car. "What are we researching?"

"I have a ghost in my house. And before you start ranting about salt and fire pokers, no I do not wanna kill it," I cut him off.

Dean scoffed, looking from me to Sam and back again. "What do you wanna do? Invite it to a freaking tea party?"

"I don't feel like explaining myself," I told him, rolling my eyes and starting off towards the brick building. I got inside and settled myself down at a computer, Sam sitting next to me. Glancing around, I saw Dean had wandered into the video section of the library. What a surprise.

"Okay," Sam started eagerly. "Lets try…" He slid the keyboard from me over to in front of his chair. I didn't mind, I figured he was more practiced at this sort of thing. "Periodicals, obituaries, and newspapers from the last…how long ago was your house built?"

"Um. I think it was built in the sixties," I told him uncertainly.

"Okay, the last forty years," Sam said, clicking away. I watched the screen as he selected some things, deselected some others things, and soon enough we were on some sort of catalog search. "We'll try a few different combinations…Street name, child, Hank…death."

I watched the screen load, and proudly display zero results. "Huh…" Sam said, though he didn't sound frustrated. It sounded like he was fascinated, like he was solving a puzzle.

I watched a few more tries before even I got bored. Glancing over, I saw Dean hitting on a blonde teenager, she looked about my age. I rolled my eyes. "Hey, you seem to have this under control. I'll be back in a few," I told Sam, getting up out of the chair.

"Yeah, sure…" He said absentmindedly, eyes glued to the computer screen. He hopped over to the chair my butt had been previously occupying.

I made my way over to where Dean was laying the charm on thick. "-And that's when I decided to join the force, I always wanted to fight crime-"

"Dean!" I called out. The older brother paused midsentence, eyes landing on me. "Deanie-poo, you were supposed to be looking for pregnancy books! Its only my first trimester, and I just don't know what to expect with a baby on board!" I announced, giving my stomach a rub. I was wearing a baggy shirt so for all the poor blonde knew there might be a slight baby bump under there.

Dean caught on quickly, his face turning threatened. "Jess, that's not funny."

"No its not! We're expecting a child together and you can't stop hitting on these floozies! No offense, honey…" I added, looking apologetically over at the girl. Eyes wide, she nodded, a forced half-smile on her face, before she power walked away.

I grinned triumphantly. Dean looked sour. "That's not funny at all. I was well on my way to getting a date for tonight," he growled bitterly.

"Looks like you will be getting pay per view porn after all," I replied, thoroughly enjoying his obvious disappointment.

"Hey-guys!" Sam called over to us as quietly as possible. I glanced over and he excitedly beckoned me and his brother over with a hand wave.

"What is it?" Dean grumbled. I plopped down next to the computer and read the article on the screen.

"Henry Ralph Barries died the morning of November 12, 1976 in his family home. The eight year old was pronounced dead by the family doctor of what was later determined to be acute pneumonia," I summarized it slightly. "Sam… We're looking for a Hank."

"No, no, I know! Hank is a common nickname for Henry! Look, he is preceded in his death by mother, Kate Barries, and survived by his father, Henry Barries Sr.," Sam announced. "This has got to be your Hank!" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "How many other little kids could have died in your house?" He asked skeptically.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You two just have the loveliest conversations…You're telling me the ghost is a kid? A kid ghost?"

Sam turned around in his seat. "That's exactly what I think."

"But…" I started, seeing an obvious flaw in this. "If Kate is the mother… She died before him! So how can that be his unfinished business?"

Dean snorted so loud half the library patrons turned to look. "'Unfinished business'? Do yourself a favor, stop watching Lifetime movies so much."

I glared at the older brother. Sam sighed. "I'm doing a search on the mother now, maybe we can get a death date and cause for her too…"

Dean rolled his eyes again. "Whatever." Then I heard the sounds of a faint rock and roll song. Furrowing my brow, I realized it was coming from the Winchester's pocket of his leather coat. Dean seemed to realize he was ringing, and grabbed the cell phone out of his pocket, snapping it open. "Dad?"

Sam immediately froze, turning his face once more away from the computer to look up at where Dean had started pacing.

"Yeah….Yeah, I'm with them now. …Yes, sir. Yes. I got it," Dean crammed the phone into his pocket after hanging up without a goodbye. His face seemed tense, in fact his whole body had changed from relaxed to stressed. It was obvious in the way he held his shoulders and neck.

"What's up?" Sam asked, exiting off the search on the computer and standing.

"Get her back to her house, now. Don't take your eyes off her. Dad's got trouble," Dean said quickly, already walking away from us.

"Dean, wait! I can help!" Sam called after his brother.

Dean whirled around and pointed a finger at me. "Keep your eyes on her!" he snapped at Sam, then strode from the library.

Sam sighed. "I take it you don't get to do much of the actual…you know, dirty work?" I asked him sympathetically.

Sam didn't reply. "Let's go," he said, jerking his head towards the exit. Just as we emerged into the sunlight we heard the Impala as it pealed out of the parking lot.

"What's he in such a hurry over?" I asked, concerned. "Your dad is fine right? He knows what he's doing?"

Sam nodded, but his eyes were clouded. "Yeah, he knows what he's doing…" We got into my car for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day and drove back to my house in silence. Sam seemed lost in contemplation.

We pulled into the driveway of my house, Sam still silent. When we got inside he perched himself by the front door. "Um…You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. Fine," he replied absentmindedly. "Go ahead and do whatever…I'm just gonna keep a look out."

"We have locks you know. You don't have to stand there watching the door," I told him, laughing slightly. Sam shrugged a shoulder but didn't reply. I sighed, regretful of the sudden change of mood that took over him.

I started up the stairs, glancing back to notice him fidgeting with something stuck into the side of his jeans. It looked to be the handle of a gun. Eyes wide, I shook my head and climbed the rest of the way up to my room. Entering, I was greeted by the multicolored 'Kate's everywhere.

"Hank?" I asked. The room stayed as it was. "Um…Was your full name Henry Barries?" The Ouija board slid from underneath the bed, where I had shoved it, across my floor, until it connected with a thwack into the baseboard of the wall. "Sweet. I guessed right. Was this your bedroom?"

The board thumped insistently against the wall. I went over and sat down next to it, reading the marker as it was centered over "yes". "Oh. And your mother's name was Kate?" It stayed centered over the same word, didn't even budge. I searched my mind for the right question to ask. I couldn't come right out and be like Hey little boy do you know you're dead? I had to at least try for subtlety.

"Um…Did you have a message for Kate?" I asked finally. The marker stayed put. "What is the message?" I tried again. Slowly, it slid up to the alphabet. I read the letters aloud as they were spelled out. "I…M….S…O…R…R…Y? You're sorry?"

The board flew to the ceiling before clattering back down onto my head. "OUCH!" I yelled, before I rubbed the top of my head, which was throbbing, and glared ruefully down at the board. "That was unnecessary!" I chastised Hank.

"Jess! Are you okay?" Sam came skidding to a stop inside the doorway of my room. I was apparently right about the object stuck into the band of his jeans, Sam had a gun drawn.

"I'm fine," I told him. His face turned relieved but his eyes scanned the room before landing, accusatory, on the Ouija board.

"You didn't….You tried talking to it with a Ouija board?" He asked, smacking his free hand to his forehead as though I were a dunce.

"Hey! It works, he replies…Until he throws a temper tantrum. He threw my bologna sandwich at the wall the other day," I mentioned. Sam just shook his head. Stepping forward, he used the toe of his converse to flip the board closed.

"Do me a favor…No communing with the dead without a hunter around, okay? Or at least an iron weapon of some sort," Sam chastised me.

I blinked. "He's a kid," I argued.

"He's a ghost. With supernatural powers. He's dangerous," Sam corrected me. I scoffed.

"What is that, anyway?" I asked dismissively, gesturing at the pistol in his hand.

"A .57," Sam replied. I crossed the room, glancing down at it.

"That's pretty bad ass, I'm not gonna lie," I said in admiration.

"Jess? Are you up here?"

My jaw dropped open at my mother's voice. She wasn't even supposed to be home for another three hours. Sam whirled around so he was facing the hallway outside the bedroom. He hid the gun behind his back as my mother stuck her head in the door. I forced a grin onto my face, standing closer than necessary to Sam so that it wasn't obvious his arm was awkwardly behind his back.

My mom looked completely surprised to find a tall teenage boy in my bedroom, her mouth falling open slightly. "Oh! Is this….Dean? The one with the old car?" she asked, confused.

"Um…." I inwardly winced. "No. This is Sam..."

My mother's eyebrows shot up so high they disappeared beneath her carefully highlighted golden brown hair. I knew what she was thinking automatically. I had never had one boyfriend, let alone appeared to have been dating two at once.

"We're brothers, actually," Sam spoke up suddenly, as though trying to explain. That only made my mothers eyes widen into saucers.

"Mom, it's not what it sounds like-" I began, but her eyes had surpassed me and gone straight to the previously pristine white walls of my bedroom. They now were anything but.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WALLS!" She shrieked, eyes bulging in anger. She completely passed up the smoke leaking out of the nostrils and went right to hulk mode.

"Oh, about that…You should really talk to Max. He's obviously begging for attention, the kids out of control," I said, gesturing helplessly about the walls.

My mother seemed at the edge of sanity. She had a very stressful job, which in combination with any sort of family drama automatically put her into a panic attack. She took a couple moments to do the whole deep breathing thing before her face turned back to its usual tanned beige color. "I see. I will pick your brother up from camp today, then…you and I will talk later, Jess," She said icily, her eyes promising some sort of dreadful sex talk later.

As she passed through the door she paused suddenly and whirled back around. I felt Sam flinch next to me. "And the door stays open! One eye open and one foot on the floor at all times!" She said threateningly, a pointed finger snapping from Sam to me. She waited until we nodded before striding back down the hallway, business heels clacking towards the staircase.

I checked the hallway to make sure before giving Sam the all clear nod. He looked completely mortified as he shoved the pistol back into his jeans, pulling his long shirt down over it.

"Jess?"

"Yeah?" I asked, sighing.

"Not a word of this gets back to Dean. Not a word," Sam demanded.

* * *

_To readers of Crazy, I am planning on updating before the weekend is over. I had terrible writer's block, but I hope I worked past it. I am obviously very sorry to anyone who reads that story for the ridiculously long wait. _


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